


A Murderer's Eye

by orphan_account



Category: Clue | Cluedo - All Media Types
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, and its kinda sad, this all centers around murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: who killed him?where?with what weapon?and why?just a multi chapter Clue fanfic. each chapter is not linked, and instead describes the murder, each done by a different character. why did they do it?
Kudos: 3





	A Murderer's Eye

When people are desperate, they will do absurd things.

I learned that at a shockingly young age -- five, about -- when my mom got arrested for grand theft auto. Three years. My dad had to beg my grandma to drive me to school for that whole time, since we didn't have a car after that and we were dirt poor. 

We still are, actually.

In those three years, I realized that some people didn't have any choice but to steal. Without money, in this society, you had  _ nothing _ . The media lies, don't you know?

So, once I had gotten out of school, I did exactly that. It wasn't really  _ stealing _ , at first. I convinced people into buying worthless things that they thought were antiques, or vintage, or  _ whatever _ . And it worked. I racked up thousands of dollars, almost all of which went to my parents so they could afford bills and shelter and whatnot.

But then it stopped working.

I got into the news, titled a  _ " _ conning schemer" who "lies to steal money from unsuspecting passers". Nobody bought anything from me from then on.

So then I stole.

I stole and charmed people into giving me things, people from places I wasn't known, then I stole some more. I sold everything at the pawn shop and gave the money to my parents, again.

I changed my name. I was no longer Alfrede Brunette.  _ Monsieur _ Brunette was the name. A Parisian art dealer. 

And it worked. A bit too well, actually. Suddenly everyone was asking me to check out work, to look at art, and I forgot how to be honest. I forgot what honesty was. And I stole everything.

It was more surprising how I didn't get caught, actually.

Not until the party, anyway.

Dr. Black had invited me to a party-- I'd check out a painting, tell him the price, and be on my way. Maybe have some drinks and good food. He always was a good cook.

But the thing was; that painting was worth  _ thousands _ . If I sold that, my parents could get a home for real. They would be stable, at least for a little while. 

I needed that painting.

I walked into the party with a forgery in my backpack and money in my head. Said hello to a few guests. The sergeant was there, and I knew him well. He knew about my situation-- he had always known. He patted me on the back and beamed. It gave me a bit of a confidence boost.

I headed up the stairs, buzzes of chatter fading in my ears. Dr. Black was up here somewhere, sitting in his room or organizing his shelves.

Or maybe he was downstairs. I somewhat hoped so.

I walked into the room with the painting. My hands were sweating and shaky. That must've been my downfall. Or maybe it was too loud when I put down my backpack. Either way, while I was pulling the forgery out, the door opened.

"Monsieur Brunette, what are you doing?" 

I recognized that voice. How could I not?

I turned around, the forgery gripped under my arm. It was too late for hiding. "Dr. Black, monsieur! Haha.. what a funny coincidence, is it not?" I was sitting on the ground, my back to the backpack on the floor. Dr. Black looked like a monster right now.

"Yes, quite," he said, staring at the forgery. "Now, how would you like to settle this?"

I sighed. Of course. He was always so blunt. "Well, I'd quite prefer if you  _ didn't _ call the police. I can explain, okay?"

"Explain all you'd like." He shut the door behind him, crouching to my level. "I'm still turning you in."

I couldn't go to jail. I couldn't be like my mom. I had to get the painting-- I had to help my parents. It was too crucial.

There was something else in my bag for emergencies. A knife-- dagger, actually. Keeping my eyes on Dr. Black as to not give away my intentions, I silently fumbled my hand into my backpack. 

"I suppose.. that is reasonable," I began, letting my hand grip the hilt of the dagger. "But I cannot let that happen, Dr. Black, mon amour."

Dr. Black stared, and I could tell emotions were rushing through his mind at light speed. "What is that supposed to mean, Brunette?" My hand had slipped out of the backpack, but stayed in just enough so the blade was not visible.

"My sincerest apologies, mon cheri. We will not meet in the afterlife, for I am destined as a devil. Goodbye."

The sickening sound of blade against flesh sounded out. I squeezed my eyes shut, for I did not want to see my own deeds.

There was no scream. No struggle. It was all quiet after the body fell. I opened my eyes.

His body lay in front of me. Lifeless. It was awful, so so awful, and I had done it. I had made him like this.

And for what? Money? I had taken the gift of life from someone for  _ money _ ?

I felt revolted and stood up abruptly. I tossed the forgery away, not bothering to look at if it was damaged. I kicked my backpack away. I wouldn't need it, never again. 

I wiped my hands off on my coat, tossing it away in the same direction as the painting. I do not know why. Either way, everyone was destined to know somehow.

I did not walk out of the room for a while, despite all my actions. I stood there, staring at the lifeless form of Dr. Black until his skin went pale and cold.

I said sorry. I said sorry many times. 

And then I cried.


End file.
